


and this is the map of my heart

by nowayout



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death Cure Spoilers, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowayout/pseuds/nowayout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s Thomas, Greenie, Greenbean. </p><p>For Newt, he’s Tommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is the map of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just making sure everyone sees this: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD! Guys, seriously, if you've only seen the movie or haven't read The Death Cure yet and don't want to be spoiled, hit the back button now. If you have read the book or don't mind spoilers - I hope you enjoy this little fic.  
> Title shamelessly stolen from Richard Siken's _Snow and Dirty Rain_ because yay, angst.

 

 

The first thing he sees is the sky, light blue and clear and flawless. It had looked the same from up there. He would know, he’d been looking up before he let go of the ivy vines and moved his left foot forward, stepping onto nothing, falling falling falling.

 

It’s taunting him, mocking him. _Nothing’s changed, boy, nothing’s changed_. The sky’s still blue and he’s still feeling and not feeling was the whole point, but this place seems to have other plans for him and won’t let him die.

 

Still, it was worth a try.

 

Dark eyes are looking down at him, wide and panicked and glistening with tears, and that’s when the guilt sets in, shame following soon after. He shouldn’t have done this to Alby. Shouldn’t have burdened him like this, shouldn’t have been so selfish. It’s only been twelve days since they lost Nick, twelve days since Alby became the leader. Newt promised he’d help, be his right-hand man for however long necessary, until they solved the Maze and found a way out. Now he’s gone and made a mess of things. Apparently that’s all he’s good at, making bloody messes.

 

He wants to say he’s sorry, to ask for forgiveness, but Alby’s shaking his head frantically and biting his lips, and the other voices – familiar, laced with concern – are louder than his could be at the moment, so he doesn’t try to speak. The Med-jacks are making him drink something and he’s beginning to feel blessedly numb as the world goes dark.

 

*

 

He can’t go back in the Maze with Minho and the other Runners. He isn’t fast enough anymore. He has a limp.

 

Another bloody reminder that he’s nothing but a failure.

 

*

 

The ones who were there will never look at him the same, he’s aware of that. But the Newbies don’t know what happened and they become his salvation. An opportunity for him to be useful once more. Alby is the one taking them on the Tour, but he’s the leader of the Glade and he doesn’t have the time to hold their hands and baby them all day long until they stop crying. That’s where Newt comes in. He takes the Newbies under his wing, teaches them what to do and not do in order to survive, keeps an eye on them until he’s sure they can manage on their own. He jokes around when it looks like they need someone to put a smile on their faces. He tries to make them feel welcome – or at least as much as that’s possible in this shuck place.

 

It’s good. It works. He knows Alby still worries, keeps looking at him when he thinks Newt doesn’t notice because he’s busy with another scared boy that woke up in the Box, woke up to a nightmare – but Newt feels fine.

 

He wouldn’t – not again.

 

He can’t let down all these boys he has to look after.

 

*

 

They’re not giving up. They can’t, especially not now. The latest Newbie is twelve, and if they’re starting to send them children now – something’s not right.

 

Newt doesn’t know whether the boy’s arrival is meant as a warning or as an incentive or both, but he finds it hard to believe someone that much younger than the rest would be sent to them without a reason. What they have here is working because they’re all around the same age, they can’t watch over children.

 

He wonders if whoever put them there wants them to try harder, work harder to solve the Maze and get out.

 

Except there seems to be no way out. It’s been two years and the Maps look the same, the Runners know all the paths by heart and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that they’re starting to lose hope even if none of them dares to put into words what they’re all thinking, that they’re stuck in here forever.

 

Every time the Doors close Minho says the next day will be when they find that an exit has magically appeared overnight. He says it with a put-on smirk that does nothing to hide the weariness in his eyes, but it seems to be enough. Enough to make the other Runners go back into the Maze again and again, to keep looking for something that doesn’t exist.

 

He understands why Alby doesn’t want to tell everyone that they’re most likely never getting out. He understands that they need something to believe in, something to sustain their dreams of freedom, of returning to a home and a family they can’t remember.

 

He understands because he will never forget what happened when he stopped believing and he doesn’t want anyone else to have to go through that.

 

For now, all he can do is hope that their next Newbie won’t be younger than Chuck.

 

*

 

His name is Thomas and he’s –

 

Different.

 

He’s reckless, impatient, too buggin’ curious for his own good. He’s a walking enigma dancing on the line between bravery and stupidity with fire in his eyes. He leaves the rest of them dumbstruck. He gives them hope.

 

He’s Thomas, Greenie, Greenbean.

 

For Newt, he’s Tommy.

 

*

 

Tommy turns out to be a hurricane, a true force of nature, managing to change everything and turn their world upside down in a matter of days. Tommy demolishes all their rules, seems to love doing so, but after a while Alby points out that he listens to Newt. To a certain extent. Sometimes. When he feels like it, mostly.

 

“Maybe he’d listen to the rest of you slintheads too if you tried being nicer to him,” he jokes, unable to hold back a grin as he watches Tommy and Chuck have a conversation that consists mostly of Tommy pulling confused faces and Chuck gesturing a lot. It’s how most of their conversations go.

 

Alby doesn’t reply, which is unusual because Alby loves being a smart aleck almost as much as Minho does. A tiny part of Newt wonders if maybe he’s said something he shouldn’t have, but when he turns to look at Alby, prepared to ask if something’s wrong, he sees the corners of his mouth tilting up slowly, his dark eyes soft in a way they almost never are.

 

Alby glances at the two Newbies, his smile growing bigger, then back at Newt. He shakes his head, grinning still, and claps Newt on the shoulder. “Think we’re gonna leave being nice to you if getting along with Greenie’s got you smiling like that.”

 

*

 

He hadn’t noticed. But, after Alby mentions it, the way he can’t stop his lips from curving upward whenever Tommy is around seems to be all that Newt can pay attention to.

 

He wishes he could remember if this is what happiness felt like. Before.

 

It’s like the world’s gotten a little brighter since Tommy showed up, stupid as that may sound.

 

Having Tommy around feels like being able to see the sun again.

 

*

 

He falls to his knees, staring at the closed Doors, at the walls that have just taken his three closest friends away from him.

 

One by one, the others gather around him, a small army of lost boys. He can feel their eyes on him. They all know what this means and he knows what he’s supposed to do, he does, but – he can’t. Not yet.

 

Frypan sounds small and uncharacteristically hesitant when he calls his name. Newt glances up but stays right where he is, looking up at the Gladers who seem to be expecting him to tell them what to do next –

 

Right. He’s in charge now.

 

His hands are shaking.

 

He doesn’t want to be the leader, he just wants his friends back.

 

Clinging on to the last desperate shred of hope he tells the others to wait until the next day before making any decisions. It doesn’t surprise him that they obey, nodding slowly before turning around and going back to whatever it was they were doing. He notices the pitying looks but chooses to ignore them.

 

The Gladers go about their business and he sits cross-legged on the grass as the hours pass by, feeling too much and feeling numb all at once. He doesn’t sleep that night, doesn’t even close his eyes. The noises inside the Maze are making his blood freeze.

 

In the morning, Chuck is the first one that comes to sit next to him. Then Zart. Clint. Jeff. Gally. It doesn’t take long before they’re all there, sitting, standing, waiting. Nobody says a thing.

 

Newt is holding his breath as the Doors open, revealing an empty corridor he knows all too well.

 

And then –

 

Then.

 

He can finally breathe again.

 

Somehow, miraculously, they’re alive, all three of them.

 

And somehow, inexplicably, Newt is sure he’s never been more relieved. Not in the past two years, not before.

 

*

 

Gally’s acting more and more like a piece of klunk and it’s starting to get to all of them. It’s becoming an issue.

 

Differences and occasional misunderstandings aside, they’ve never really come to blows, at least not like this. Definitely not like this, to the point where death threats were being made. True, Tommy broke some rules, but Gally crossed a line he should have never crossed, and this – this is not about taking sides or doing things just to spite Gally.

 

If Tommy wants to play hide and seek with Grievers, then so be it. Newt can’t protect him around the clock, has to watch over everything and everyone while Alby goes through the Changing, and at the moment Minho is the only one he trusts. He has no doubt Tommy will be safe with Minho.

 

He doesn’t know when protecting Tommy became one of his main concerns.

 

*

 

For some reason he doesn’t even try to understand, Newt trusts Tommy. Trusts him completely. Blindly, almost. His head is telling him the others are right, that things started getting weird after Tommy arrived – which is true, he can admit that much. Still, his gut is telling him that Tommy is on their side. That he’s trustworthy.

 

So Newt listens to everything Tommy says, believes that he’s confused and scared, believes that he wants to help, that it’s all he’s trying to do. He remembers what Ben said, and then Gally, and now even Alby. Despite their warnings, not trusting Tommy seems to be something he isn’t capable of doing anymore.

 

In turn, Tommy opens up to him, talks to him, _really_ talks to him when it’s just the two of them, tells him things he doesn’t dare confess to anyone else.

 

Tommy isn’t evil. Something’s not right, that much is obvious, but it’s not – it’s not Tommy’s fault.

 

*

 

“Gally thinks you’re jacked in the head. Being too soft on Greenie, rewarding him when he should be punished. ”

 

Alby’s words don’t come as a surprise, not at all, and Newt can’t do more than let out a humorless laugh. Yeah, Gally’s made his opinion pretty clear. At the Gathering, at lunch, at any given opportunity, grumbling about order and rules, and Newt couldn’t care less about his bloody complaints. That’s what worries him the most. He used to care. Order used to matter to him, but for whatever reason he’s willing to bend all the rules for Tommy. To break them if need be.

 

“What d’you think?” he asks, because Alby’s opinion will always mean something to him, because he needs to know that his best friend doesn’t believe he’s making a colossal mistake.

 

Alby shrugs. He ducks his head, averting his gaze, and Newt tries not to read too much into the gesture. “That things are changing.”

 

Newt nods, letting out a deep sigh. Yeah, that sums up their situation perfectly.

 

*

 

Tommy’s girlfriend wakes up. She remembers him – sort of. He doesn’t remember her.

 

Nothing makes sense anymore, and her being smart and trying to help doesn’t change the fact that everything’s starting to go to hell. On top of it all, Tommy seems to think getting stung and going through the Changing on purpose is a brilliant idea.

 

Admittedly, it works. It makes Newt want to spit his terrified heart out, but it works. Tommy begins to remember, and that’s another mess in itself.

 

*

 

He’s the first to speak up after Tommy confesses, the first to defend both of them. For a second he wonders if he’s completely lost his mind, lost any semblance of reason because he’s so caught up in Tommy and the bond they share, but, thankfully, the others agree with him. They don’t blame Tommy, don’t blame Teresa.

 

They also agree it’s high time they fought back.

 

*

 

It keeps happening. He feels too much, feels _everything_ when he wishes he was numb to the core. He’s suffocating, drowning, dying slowly but never completely. What else are WICKED going to take away from them? What else is there left to take? They’re empty, hollow. Shattered pieces of nothingness instead of human beings.

 

Tommy is crumbling in front of him, screaming, crying, and Newt can’t do anything about it. He can’t help.

 

*

 

He needs a second to mourn silently. A second is all he’s given.

 

*

 

It was an experiment. It’s over, they’ve been told. They’re safe now.

 

It sounds too good to be true.

 

But the pillow under his head is soft, the blanket draped over his body is thick and warm, and when he turns his head to the left he sees Tommy sleeping with a small smile on his lips, hears Minho and Frypan snoring lightly in the top bunks.

 

He lets himself believe that it could be real. That this could be their new beginning.

 

*

 

Peace lasts for a night. When he opens his eyes they’re all in hell again.

 

*

 

He thinks they should have known better. They’re never going to stop running, never going to find a safe place to lie down and just breathe.

 

They still don’t give up, the few of them that are still standing. The sun, the sand, the bloody _air_ is trying to burn them alive, day after day, but they keep on running. Refuse to die. They’ve come too far, been through too much to throw in the towel now. They may be broken, but broken pieces can be mended and maybe this buggin’ life is worth living after all and maybe at some point they’ll find a way to heal and start believing in happiness again. He thinks they could do it, as long as they stay together.

But then Tommy’s gone and the world goes dark again.

 

*

 

There’s not much they can do besides listening to Jorge. He seems to know his way around. He also seems not to hold a grudge against Minho, the two of them sort of teaming up to lead their little group, and Newt is grateful that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about anymore.

 

He worries about Tommy and his new girlfriend, though. He tries to hide it more often than not, but he’s tired and paranoid and his leg hurts, and sometimes he just doesn’t have the strength to keep pretending that he isn’t out of his mind with worry.

 

He doesn’t notice Minho making his way over until he’s right next to him, one arm going around Newt’s waist. He takes Newt’s arm and puts it around his own neck, offering a blinding grin that reminds Newt of a time when things were simpler, when breathing in and out didn’t used to hurt.

 

“We’re gonna find him,” Minho says with a confidence Newt wishes he could feel as well. “Shank’s too smart to let himself get killed by buggin’ Cranks. We’ll find him, shuck-face. And when we do, he can carry you and you both can cry about how much you missed each other.”

 

Newt snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, supposing he misses me too.” He winces when he realizes he actually opened his mouth to speak and the words didn’t stay inside his head. Well, shuck him, he just admitted out loud that he does miss Tommy. He really needs to sleep. And to keep his mouth shut from now on.

 

Minho gives him a long look, his grin turning into a soft smile that Newt remembers seeing only once before. His eyes travel down just a little, from Newt’s face to his neck, and Newt knows what he’s looking at.

 

“WICKED were right about one thing, man,” Minho says, his grip around Newt’s waist tightening as he starts to walk a little faster. “You are the glue that holds us together. Of course he misses you. We’d all miss you if you were gone.”

 

*

 

“Hey, it’s Thomas! As ugly and alive as ever!”

 

Newt lets out an involuntary chuckle when he hears Frypan’s loud voice. They’re surrounded by Cranks, some hurt, some dead, some simply wasted, and he’s laughing like a slinthead because, true, he’s seen Tommy look better, but he’s alive, he’s _here_ , and for a moment nothing else matters, and Newt feels stupidly, absurdly, _infinitely_ happy.

 

It hits him then, the memory of a feeling he can easily understand even if he doesn’t remember experiencing it himself. It’s why it’s taken him so long to figure out what was going on, he thinks to himself. How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know this is what it feels like?

 

He has to clench his fists to stop his arms from doing something stupid, from wrapping themselves around Tommy like they seem to want to be doing. Newt shakes his head minutely; now is not the time.

 

He walks up to Tommy with a smile he can’t suppress, a smile that he hopes doesn’t reveal too much. “Glad you’re not bloody dead, Tommy. I’m really, really glad.”

 

*

 

It’s like fighting the Grievers all over again, except worse.

 

Brenda helps him kill the last of those creatures, Minho stays by his side when they start to run. They finally reach the Berg and rush to get inside, Tommy and Teresa right behind them.

 

So they make it out alive once more. He glances around, looking at his friends, at Teresa and Aris, at the Group B girls, at Brenda and Jorge.

 

It’s over, they’re being told again.

 

No one seem to believe that, though, and Newt can’t help feeling that this is another trap.

 

*

 

_Bloody Phase Three._

 

He doesn’t know what they’ve done to him, but something’s different. Wrong. He can feel it.

 

He hopes the others are doing better than him. He hopes they’re okay. Hopes Tommy’s okay.

 

It’s been twenty-two days.

 

*

 

On the twenty-sixth day, he sees the others again, all of them gathered in a small auditorium. Except for Tommy. Tommy isn’t there and Newt tries not to panic, focusing instead on the booming voices of his friends and the warmth of Minho’s arm around his shoulders.

 

And then the door opens again, and Newt’s heart drops to his stomach.

 

Much to his relief, Tommy looks good. Clean, healthy. Not as if he’d been tortured for the past three weeks and a half. And he’s grinning as his eyes roam over the group, looking genuinely happy, like he’d been waiting to see the rest of them again and he’s glad he’s finally allowed to.

But suddenly Tommy stops grinning and his eyes still, staying fixed on one person. Newt doesn’t have turn around and look to know who that is.

 

He grabs Tommy’s hand because he’s bitter and stupid and he doesn’t care anymore.

 

*

 

Turns out it wasn’t just a feeling. He actually is losing his mind. He’s not immune.

 

That explains the past few days, he tells himself, and then it’s like everything inside him shuts down. He can’t think, can’t feel, and he’s grateful for it.

 

But then he notices Tommy next to him, bent over like he can’t hold himself upright, and that’s enough to make Newt want to find the strength to pretend he can still function for a little longer.

 

He crosses his arms over his chest and forces himself to grin, a meaningless show of bravado that he knows Tommy can see right through. But Tommy humors him, and they try to joke about it with trembling voices that give away everything they’re trying to hide. They stop smiling.

 

*

 

One last adventure. One last attempt to escape.

 

One last moment of selfishness that he lets himself have as he writes the note amid chaos and despair.

 

His sanity is slipping away faster than expected.

 

*

 

They keep saying they’ll find a way to save him.

 

He just wants them to leave already.

 

Tommy should have read the bloody note by now but it’s obvious he hasn’t.

 

*

 

Madness feels like a living, breathing thing he carries inside him, growing with each passing day. It’s getting harder to remember who he is. Who everyone is.

 

He’s taken to the other Cranks and all he can feel is relief.

 

*

 

There is no point in thinking about the future. He doesn’t have a future.

 

What he does have is a past. One he can’t recall, but no, he doesn’t regret deciding he didn’t want his memories back. He’ll never remember, never know for sure, which means he can still hope that he and Tommy knew each other. Before. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but there’s a chance they did. It’s possible. At the moment, the possibility is all Newt needs.

 

*

 

The anger feels foreign. Feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t mean what he’s saying, but he can’t stop the words from coming out.

 

Why is he trying to hurt them? He loves these boys. He can’t explain how he knows it, but he does, he does, he loves them. And they must care about him too, otherwise they wouldn’t be here.

 

He’s doing it for them. He doesn’t want Minho and Tommy to see him like this, doesn’t want them to have to watch as he loses himself completely.

 

Minho’s face doesn’t fall, it absolutely collapses, and Tommy sounds sadder than ever before.

 

Newt keeps begging them to leave with tears in his eyes.

 

And finally, finally, they do.

 

*

 

Tommy will never know.

 

*

 

In a way, it’s fitting that Tommy finds him again. It’s how Newt hoped it would end.

 

It all comes back to him, between spitting out words that taste like poison and flashes of sanity that only last a moment. The Maze. Falling. The boy who made the world brighter. And Newt decides to give Tommy the one thing he has left, shares his darkest secret with him, and it’s so, so far from what Tommy deserves to hear, but it’s all Newt can offer at this point. It’s the closest thing to what he wishes he could say, to the words he doesn’t know how to form anymore.

 

And then, with a soft voice, he pleads one last time.

 

Tommy closing his tear-filled eyes is the last thing he sees.

 

***

 

(He keeps the note. Keeps it in the pocket of his jeans, carries it around with him all the time, a physical reminder of his guilt that he can’t let go of. It might have been what Newt wanted but that doesn’t make Thomas hate himself any less for pulling the trigger.

 

He looks around, taking in the vibrant colors that surround him, the people he doesn’t know that well yet and their lively chatter. The place is bursting with life and he isn’t sure he belongs here, doesn’t see how he could when it feels like all that’s left of him are broken pieces that he can’t glue back together.

 

They know he’s hiding something from them. Minho, Brenda. Maybe even Aris. And sometimes Thomas wants to tell them. Wants to tell Minho, mostly, because he needs someone to be angry with him, to remind him what a piece-of-klunk friend he is, and he’s sure Minho would be absolutely livid if he found out about what Thomas had to do. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d be too hurt to even react. Maybe he’d feel guilty, too, even though he shouldn’t.

 

Thomas wonders how many of the survivors feel guilty about being here. Wonders how many of them believe that those who didn’t make it deserved to be here more. Thomas can name at least three people off the top of his head. There are more, of course there are, but the three of them stand out. The three deaths he feels responsible for.

 

And it _hurts_. Remembering hurts so much, but the images are burned into his mind forever, providing a constant ache that makes his heart clench whenever he has a spare moment. It hurts to think about Chuck jumping in front of Thomas because he was being controlled, it hurts to remember the dagger sticking out of the boy’s chest. It hurts to think about Teresa sacrificing herself so that Thomas could live, to remember the last words she didn’t manage to utter but which Thomas convinced himself he could hear nonetheless. It hurts to think about the boy who was on Thomas’ side from the very beginning, who trusted him and believed in him even when no one else did.

 

He took Newt for granted at times, he realizes. Newt’s faith in Thomas and his unwavering support, but also Newt’s strength and his will to live. And he’s so, so sorry that he couldn’t see past Newt’s warm smile and bright eyes. That he couldn’t find a buggin’ cure. That he couldn’t save him.

 

That he only realized how much Newt meant to him when he learned he was going to lose him.

 

He thinks about all the times Newt chose him over anyone else. He wishes he’d understood sooner what that meant.)


End file.
